The Caboose

One of the highlights of moving to Alaska in the summertime is that our little family gets to live outside. I honestly think we all prefer to be outdoors.

(And I know you've heard me complain a lot about how long it took us to get our household items from Texas, so maybe this seems like conflicting information. I don't know what to tell you. I guess I'm a girl who would rather be outside, and then if she's inside she wants all of her stuff.)

But liking outside isn't necessarily a new thing for us. We've always enjoyed being outside together. Camping, hiking, and bike riding are some of our best and favorite things. Honestly, since my kids could walk we've been taking them on hikes.

I remember my youngest being only two trekking up the rocky slopes of the Franklin Mountains.

And I remember my young daughter walking her dog through dirt paths in the Ozarks.

I remember them discovering the utility of a walking stick in the Texas Hill Country---

---and that Daddy's shoulders are better than your own feet on the granite trails of Enchanted Rock.

I remember them eagerly walking through the marshy Canadian wilderness towards the stinky smell of sulfur.

And just last week, they were curiously following the path of a glacial river in Alaska.

Now I'm sure at this point you've picked up on a theme.
You've likely noticed that ALL of my pictures of my kids in motion are from behind. There's a reason for that---and no, it's not because I'm slow. ;)

A long time ago when we started our family hikes, we came up with a walking order: Dad, sister, brother, and mom. Dad would be in front to lead the way, set the pace, and make sure everything was safe moving forward. Brother and sister followed closely behind Dad. And Mom brought in the rear with the purpose of making sure that no man wandered off the trail or was left behind. My children have long since lovingly called me "the caboose."

Now I don't mind being "the caboose" on our family hikes. It feels purposeful and essential.
But sometimes, I can feel like the caboose in our "everyday walk"--and that's always not so great.

The caboose is a position of humility. Always letting everyone else go in front. Always placing yourself at the tail end. Always watching everyone else push out in front while you trail behind.
I've found that when I've got a heavier load, it's always easiest to put my own stuff at the back.
Things that matter {kids' school, kids' activities, husband's work schedule, house chores, family errands} get put at the front of the line, while the "things that don't matter" {writing, crafting, reading, getting my hair cut, painting my nails, scheduling appointments for myself, going out to lunch with a friend, going back to school, starting a career, etc.} get pushed to the back burner.

And for a while, I'm okay with that.
After all, that's what a caboose is for. It's job is to provide a place for the crew to rest so they can operate full steam ahead. It serves as a lookout to make sure that everything stays on track, nothing breaks, and that everything is making it to the destination safely. And if things do happen to get really out of control, the caboose can help apply the brakes.


But that caboose is good for one more thing.
Sometimes it switches directions and takes the lead.
On a train, couplings are loosed and the caboose will pull one or two cars along with it to link up on a different track. And not to sound like a too much of a train nerd (because I really don't understand a whole lot,) but I'm pretty sure that cabooses would have been made altogether obsolete if not for this one feature. A good caboose requires the ability to switch.

That's the part I have trouble with--The part that puts me in the front and pulls everyone else behind me; the part that is able to switch gears and take a new path.
Whether it be from fear or complacency, if you've been the caboose long enough it's just easier just to ride in the back. You get really good at it, even.

But that's not all we're meant to do, friends. We were made for more!
Yes, we are to be servants. Yes, we are to be lookouts. Yes, we are to be shelters. Yes, we are to be a safety net.
Be we are also meant to be leaders.
We are meant to be guides. We are meant to be teachers. We are meant to be trailblazers and way-makers.

We can't do one part of our job and not the other.
It's time to be the "whole caboose." ;)

So if you're at all like me and you've been spending a little bit too much time in the back
Let's switch it up!

That little black dot in the front is yours truly leading her most precious freight.

The In-Between

I have a confession to make.

I am not a very put-together lady.

Many of my readers know me personally and are aware of this fact. However, some of you found the blog through a friend, and I just wanted to make sure I didn't have anyone fooled.

I may seem intuitive and reflective in my writing--and I very much feel that way on the inside. But on the outside, I'm much different. If you carried on a conversation with me in person, it would include a lot of sound effects (Grrr, Aaargh!, Aaahh!) and an EXCESSIVE amount of hand gestures. My words tend to get all rambly and my accent comes on really thick when I'm hurried, or agitated, or flustered. (Read: almost all the time.)

I guess what I'm trying to say is that there tends to be a wide space between the "Blogger Liz" that shares the afterthoughts of the things that happen to her and the "Real Life Liz" that lives through them as they are actually happening.


For example, last week Blogger Liz spent posted a silly picture on her page to encourage moms to celebrate their achievements.
Then Real Life Liz promptly caught the microwave on fire trying to make a container of Easy Mac--So yeah. Real Life Liz is a mess.

(And the thing is, Blogger Liz would really love to be able to share a story with you today about how it's okay to set the microwave on fire making a snack that is manufactured for children ages 5 and up so that Real Life Liz can feel better about it, but I don't have one.)

Just today, Real Life Liz got back from a Commissary run where she discovered she forgot her military ID at home.
(Non-military friends: that is basically the equivalent of leaving your wallet at home at the grocery store, except the nice person behind you can't cover your cart out of pity. Even if you have money, it's no good without the ID. You're basically Julia Roberts in Pretty Woman at that one store on Rodeo Dr.)

Blogger Liz doesn't really have a story for that either---
Except that maybe this is the better picture of me to share with you today.

Real Life Liz is a learner, and she learns primarily through her mistakes.
I do not sit cross-legged on the floor like some kind of guru. I do not walk around sipping tea all calmly and mindfully. I do not take any goat yoga classes. Sometimes I'm a good mom, and sometimes my kids get their foot stuck inside the frame of the sofa playing American Ninja Warrior.--(It really has been a week, y'all.)

I walk through a pile of messy days every week like a hand-talking, heavily-accented, macaroni-burning, non-ID-carrying fool.
And then every once in a while, by His grace, God gives me a little wisdom in my mess and a little time to write about it.


I realized this week that it's probably hard to truly encourage people if they don't understand that you are struggling too.
Like the lady with the super-organized, well-decorated house or the fitness junkie with the killer six-pack abs, we're all dying to show everyone our "after pictures."
But our after pictures would not be nearly as impressive if you didn't know what the "before" was first.

In fact, our "before and after pictures" can be misleading, because they never fully capture all of the messy growing that happened in between.

Houses don't go from discombobulated to picture perfect in a single frame. Fitness buffs don't earn their abs in the blink of a bathroom mirror selfie.
And Real Life Liz doesn't always get to become Blogger Liz in a perfect seven-day time table.

Sometimes she gets stuck in the messy in-between.
I live, I learn, I fall, I relearn, I grow ever so slightly, I relapse, I stand, I learn, I soar, I stumble, I learn again.
...and then occasionally I set snacks on fire.


So I guess if I have any encouragement to share with you today, it's this:
It's okay to be in the in-between part of your picture---Even when it looks a bit messy.
Good things happen in the growing.



(Also, shout out to the cashier that let me buy groceries today without my ID card. There are angels among us indeed) :)

Choice Words

Words have a pretty lasting effect on me.
(Go figure, huh?)


Not very long after my husband and I had started living together, we were watching t.v. and a commercial for a certain cleaning product came on.
The main character was a housewife, and after she kissed her family and sent them on their merry way, she spent the day reading a magazine, going shopping, and meeting her friends for lunch. Then she hurried home right before her family, sprayed some deodorizer in the air, and settled in to receive the compliments for the "good work" she had done.
My husband simply said,
"Yeah, that won't be a thing."

That's it--a passing comment about a silly commercial that he probably doesn't even remember he made. (A commercial that the producers of the cleaning product probably don't even remember that they made.)
It shouldn't have made any impression on me at all, but the whole thing has resonated with me for years and years. (Over a decade now, to be exact.) I have a fair amount of guilt if I do something leisurely while my family is out for the day. I have a fair amount of guilt if I don't get certain housekeeping chores done while my family is out for the day. *I even have a fair amount of guilt if I use that dumb cleaning product!!*
My husband's fleeting commentary about that one commercial has strongly dictated how I spend my day as a homemaker.



Then I moved into this house with these stupid floors that never seem to get clean.
They bothered me enough all on their own, but then our sweet neighbor girl came to visit. She stood in the entryway waiting for my daughter to tie her shoes so they could run off to play, and simply said,
"My mom won't let us have dogs that shed, because they make the floors too dirty."

That's it--a passing comment from a sweet little girl about dogs. It shouldn't have made an impression on me at all. But now whenever she comes over to ask my daughter to play, I find myself scanning the floors for dog fluff. (I maybe have even begun running a vacuum over the entry area after I sweep it, just to be sure I've gotten it all.)
A little girl's fleeting commentary about what her mama thinks has strongly dictated what I do in my own house.



Now I realize that these confessions make me look like I'm a crazy person who should get a grip. (And clearly, I should.)
But I felt the need to share these things with you anyway, because maybe for the first time ever, I see that
it might not be the words that have such a lasting effect on me, but the opinions that generate them.


I want my husband to think that what I do around the house all day is worthwhile.
I want my neighbors to think that my home is an acceptable place for their children to come and build Lego creations on the floor at whim.

(I want people to read this blog post and see an insightful, self-aware woman instead of an insecure person who let a little girl get in her head.)

I don't know if it's because I move around all the time and constantly need new sources of validation; or because I chose to be a stay-at-home-mom in the age of female empowerment; or because I moved back onto a military installation where everyone's houses are lined up right next to each other looking exactly the same, except for the dumb blank plot of soil that forces you to showcase your individuality and abilities solely via your gardening skills...
I just want to be accepted.

And it's dictating how I hear people.
And it's dictating what I think about.
And it's dictating how I live.

I've fallen into an easy trap, friends. (And perhaps I'm not alone in here.)
Fortunately, there is a way out.

We just need to trade one set of words for another.

Words that say it doesn't matter how you keep your home, but who you keep in it. (Luke 10:38-42)
Words that say it doesn't matter how you present yourself to your neighbor, but how you treat them. (Mark 12:30-31)
Words that say you don't have to seek approval, because you have already been accepted. (Romans 5:8)

And the thing is, these words will have the same effect as the others:
They will dictate how we hear people. (James 1:19)
And they will what we think about. (Phillipians 4:8)
And they will dictate how we live. (Romans 12:2)

(But I'm guessing it will be a lot less crazy-sounding when you try to tell people about it a decade later.)

Fear of man will prove to be a snare, but whoever trusts in the Lord is kept safe.
(Proverbs 29:25)

Let's choose our words wisely.

Minding the Gap

I completed a half marathon run on the first week of June.
Today, I ran for the very first time since moving to Alaska.

In other words, I ran 13.1 miles and then didn't run again--even a little, even at all--for TEN WEEKS.



Moving from Texas to Alaska this summer has kept me really busy. Between the 4,000+ mile relocation, the two entire months that our stuff was M.I.A., battling the normal summer-break-lack-of-schedule element in a brand new place, and trying to keep up with everyday, ordinary life has kept me from hitting the pavement.
Well, all of that, and the fear of getting stomped on by a moose.

As you can imagine, there is not a whole heck of a lot here in interior Alaska. In fact, that is kind of its whole charm. But this lack of infrastructure can cause quite a snag in the training schedule of a girl who is used to running the beautifully manicured, lighted, and well-marked trails of the Austin parks system. No matter how much I missed it, I just couldn't psych myself up to go for a run out here.
What if I get hurt in the middle of nowhere? (There's actually no emergency services where I live.)
What if I get lost?
What if I get too fatigued?
Seriously, THE MOOSE THING!!

Today was the first time I ran in ten weeks, yes. But because the questions above had me chickening out, it was also the first time I ran on a treadmill in five years. Five.

(I'll let you guess how it went...)


I don't know why I'm wired the way I am, but I have a really hard time remembering that we are allowed to have gaps.
Maybe I'm the only one, I don't know. But often I carry around this really unrealistic and unhealthy expectation that I should be able to tackle everything excellently, no matter if it's my first time or my fiftieth--but especially if it's my fiftieth. That's not how life works, though.
In a perfect world, we'd all be able to balance faith, fitness, marriage, parenthood, household, career, friendships, finances, self-care, and leisure. But life is always tipping the scales and changing the dynamics.
Sometimes extra attention is needed in a certain area for a certain amount of time, and this is going to create a gap in consistency AND performance for the other ones. Not everything in life can be like riding a bike--where you leave it for a season and then return to it just the same when you're ready.
(And if you could see how I struggle to climb onto my bike to ride with the kids these days, you'd understand why I question the validity of this statement even in the literal sense.)

Having a gap doesn't make you a failure. Having to start over doesn't make you a failure. Having to struggle back to a previous level of achievement doesn't make you a failure. Having things that you are not good at does not make you a failure.

Friends, we *have* to start giving ourselves grace in the gaps.
Change is normal.
Struggle is normal.
Imbalance is normal.
IMPERFECTION is normal.

It's why Jesus came: to fill ALL the gaps. (Ephesians 1:22-23)
You don't have to be perfect, because He already is.

Busy mama, His grace is sufficient to cover down for you when you're too tired to wake up for your morning Bible time.
Lovely woman, His grace is sufficient remind you of the most beautiful parts of you, even when the mirror lies.
Wife, He loves you.
Parent, He guides you.
Homemaker, He blesses you.
Professional, He establishes the work of your hands.
Friend, He is with you always.
Warrior, He is your strength.

(Crazy lady, He is your protection from the moose.)



So here's to your gaps. Today we celebrate them.

May we always seek to fill them with Grace.